


Is It Wrong To Cross This Line?

by NorthernRose



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Basically a lot of foreplay, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 00:55:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20986139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernRose/pseuds/NorthernRose
Summary: "The battle lines in their little game of ‘will they, wont they?’ had been drawn long ago. That line had now undoubtedly been crossed."Jon and Sansa prepare to cross the line between friendship and more.





	Is It Wrong To Cross This Line?

**Author's Note:**

> I have been struggling with my multi-chapter fic 'Cruel Summer'.  
So here is a little ditty to occupy myself! xx

They had been doing this dance for a while now.

Sansa would send flirty texts, laced with subtle innuendo. Jon would always reply. He would offer to ‘help out’ with odd jobs at her flat, even though she could ask her father, or Robb, or damn well youtube it herself, but she never did, she always let him. There were coy touches too, he would brush her hip when he squeezed past her in the kitchen, wrench in hand and looking indecently dishevelled.

They were friends too, and had become close since she had returned North, leaving Kings Landing in a trail of dust, lies and failed relationships behind her. Jon had been nothing but welcoming when she had turned up and the flat he and Robb shared, bag in hand. He hadn’t batted an eye when she crashed on their sofa for a week whilst she arranged her own place to stay, too wound up to return to her parents and face her mother’s strained concern.

She wasn’t sure when it had changed. When she had started to think differently about Jon Snow, her brother’s best friend and constant fixture in their lives growing up. But, Jon had certainly grown up, and so had she. Although she could likely nail it down to the first time she had dreamed about him with his head between her thighs, yes, that will certainly do it for a girl.

Sansa was almost certain that the feeling was mutual. She couldn’t escape his smouldering glances when she stayed over and he found her in the kitchen, sitting on the side in one of Robb’s old sweatshirts. He had confidently stood in front of her, leaning on the worktop, sipping his coffee whilst his eyes blazed a trail up and down her legs, without saying a single word to her. She was no idiot, she knew a good eye fucking when she saw one.

Sansa knew she liked him more that she cared to admit. She had learnt to carefully conceal her heart, no longer displayed artfully on her sleeve. It was often exhausting maintaining her icy and sarcastic demeanour. Jon saw right through her though, he was no fool. She would quite like him to take her to dinner, and snuggle on the settee on the weekend watching the rugby matches he liked so much on the TV. She was also certain she would quite like him to fuck the life out of her. The heart wants what is wants.

There was a risk to this, she knew it and so did he. They were friends. Their family, loved ones and social group were all intertwined. Robb would be… difficult. Maybe? She wasn’t entirely certain. He would worry about her, he always had when it came to men, but Jon was Jon. Arya would likely worry about him, that her devilish sister would break his gentle heart.

This could all come crashing down around them if it went wrong, what ever this was. There was bound to be questions and there was a lot for her to think about. But, that brings us to tonight, because it really was hard for her to think of anything at all whilst pinned against the inside of her front door, with Jon’s thigh between her legs.

The battle lines in their little game of ‘will they, wont they?’ had been drawn long ago. That line had now undoubtedly been crossed.

They had all been at the pub, of course they had. Robb had taken some poor girl home, shouting over his shoulder for Jon to ‘not wait up’. Sansa had joked, rather suggestively she might add, that perhaps he should find someone to go home with also, to ease the blow. He had grabbed her hand in reply and half dragged her out of there without so much of a word.

He had kissed her for the first time as soon as the key was in the lock. It was bruising, his hands everywhere and he tasted like whiskey, but she didn’t care, in fact she loved it. It was dirty and hard and everything she needed. She hadn’t had time to worry about it. All she could think about now was the fact she was grinding against his leg whilst he bit at her neck.

“This is a bad idea,” he groaned into her collar bone.

“Objectively, it is quite bad,” she breathed as his hand ghosted down to her arse and he pulled her even closer to him, further up the wall, her black dress hitching higher up her legs, “Likely the worst idea we’ve ever had, but I’ve always wanted things that are bad for me,” she said, throwing her head back to rest again the wall as he groaned into her neck.

“Robb will kill me,” he muttered between kisses along her skin as his hand ghosted dangerously close to the edge of her underwear.

“Well can we at least wait till morning before you sacrifice yourself, it would be cruel to leave a girl in this state,” she breathed, rolling her hips into his hand to really get her point across.

“We are friends,” he said, despite the very sinful way he pushed his hand against her mound, causing her to arch her back and whimper.

“I don’t let any of my other friends touch me like this, I don’t think about any of my other friends when I am alone at night. Are you out of excuses yet Jon,” she gasped as his fingers brushed against her as he pushed her underwear aside. She keened at his touch, sighing his name in a whisper. 

“Just about sweetheart,” he muttered, “God you’re so wet… Fuck Sans, do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

“Gods yes,” she whined. She writhed against his hand and he rested his forehead against hers. Sansa cupped one of his cheeks, holding him to her, “what is it you want Jon? Tell me, please,” she asked softly, her lips ghosting his. She needed to know that he wanted this too, that they wouldn’t ruin everything without reason.

He chuckled, pinning her in place with one of his intense looks she had come to crave so much, he hoisted her up in his arms and she wrapped her legs around his waist,

“What do I want? Oh sweetheart… To dine on your cunt for the next day or so, to start with” he said as he began to walk them towards her room, “I’ve been dreaming about that pretty cunt of yours Sansa Stark.”

She whimpered into his hair, as wild and dishevelled as hers, “that seems like a very good place to start.” 


End file.
